Full translation of “The Noblewoman” by Lesya Ukrainka — a poetic drama banned in USSR
Lesya Ukrainka (real name Larysa Kosach-Kvitka, 1871–1913) was an outstanding Ukrainian poetess and writer, as well as political and civil rights activist.
She was born in a noble Ukrainian family of intellectuals, political activists and writers — adamant fighters for Ukrainian freedom who were opposing the opressive politics of Russian Empire. Even Lesya’s first poem, “Hope”, written at just nine years old, was inspired by her aunt’s arrest and exile to Siberia for revolutionary activities.
”The Noblewoman” is one of Ukrainka’s masterpieces, a historical drama about a Ukrainian family living in 17th century Muscovy (present-day Russia).
This is, without a doubt, the most eye-opening literature piece one can read to get a real view of everyday life in 17 century Russia and its dramatic difference from Ukraine.
Trust me, your view on Russian culture will never be the same. No wonder the play was strictly banned in USSR (i.e. by Russian authorities).
Plot of ”The Noblewoman” is simple: Stepan, whose family moved to Moscow, arrives to Ukraine for a visit and meets Oksana, daughter of a Ukrainian cossack. They fall in love, and Oksana follows Stepan to Moscow. There, she encounters harsh alien customs, so different from the freedoms she enjoyed in Ukraine.
The Noblewoman
Dramatic Poem in Five Scenes
Perebyny, a Cossack officer
Perebynykha, his wife
Oksana, his daughter
Ivan, his son
Stepan, a Cossack now in the Muscovite service
Mother of Stepan
Hanna, sister of Stepan
A cossack
An Orderly
The action takes place in the seventeenth century
ACT I
IN UKRAINE
A garden before the house of Perebyny. The house has a spacious porch extending its entire length. There are a table and some chairs on the porch; the table is set for supper. Perebynykha is making the final preparations for the meal, while Oksana and a serving maid are helping her. Perebyny and Stepan approach the porch through the garden.
Perebyny (To his guest)
My wife has certainly made ready fast!
See there, she has prepared the evening meal,
While we two in the churchyard spent our time
In gossiping.
Perebynykha
(Coming a little forward on the porch to welcome her guest)
I pray you, noble sir,
To share with us our humble bread and salt.
Stepan (Bowing)
I’d gladly do so, lady, but I fear
The older nobles might take some offence
I left their company some time ago.
Perebyny
Have no concern on their account. Pidny
Invited them to share this feast, while I
Begged you away from them. “I am,” I said,
“Not feeling well today and so I can’t
Carouse and hold my own, while Stepan here
Because of my old friendship with his father,
I’d love to have as guest with me at home.
He’s still a fledgling, and as yet not used
To play his part in banquets such as yours.”
The nobles, mellowed by the fumes of wine
And vodka, were disposed to tolerance
And only said, “So be it! Let the youth
Stay at his house — aye, even till he leaves.
What does he think we are?”
Stepan
Receive my thanks
For this, my lord.
He steps upon the porch with his host.
Perebyny
I’ll tell the orderly
To transport all your baggage over here
To us and I’ll hold you a prisoner,
Until the nobles free you.
Stepan
Oh, good Lord!
I’d rather be your prisoner than free.
Perebynykha (to Oksana)
Go, daughter, go and call Semen to me.
Oksana goes out and soon returns.
Stepan
I fear that I may be a nuisance here.
Perebynykha
No, not at all! We always have a room
In our house for a guest.
Perebyny
My son, forget
All ceremony here. ’Twas ever thus.
Your father always took his bread and salt with us,
When we were brother Cossacks.
(He seats Stepan at the table and then sits down himself.)
(To Oksana)
Daughter, you
Shall be the first to pour out for our guest.
Oksana fills from a bottle two glasses, one for her father, the other for the guest.
Oksana
Permit me, noble sir, to give you this.
Stepan (Rises, takes the glass and bows to Oksana)
May God grant you, young mistress, happiness
And many years!
Oksana
And to you, sir, good health!
Stepan drinks and again sits down. Oksana serves her father and all begin to eat.
Perebyny (To Oksana)
What do you think? He did not recognize
You at the first. He asked me who she was
Who bore the standard in the foremost rank.
Oksana (Smiling and glancing at Stepan)
When was it?
Perebyny
Why, ’twas when on Trinity
You marched in your soldality’s parade.
Stepan
Do you the banner always bear?
Oksana (With an air of complacency)
Why not?
For I’m the head of our sodality.
Perebyny (Winking jovially)
She is no longer your Oksana small,
For whom you used to weave the daisy chain.
Oksana
I still have some of those old daisy chains . . .
She stops suddenly with a deep blush.
Stepan (Joyfully)
Is that the truth?
Oksana (Interrupting to change the subject which embarrasses her)
Oh, mother, where’s Ivan?
Perebynykha
Where else but on the street amongst his friends?
Ivan (Comes out of the house)
You’re wrong, I’m here. Oh, mother, may I eat?
Perebynykha
But first of all, you ought to greet our guest.
Ivan (Indifferently, while taking his seat)
We have already met outside the church.
Perebyny
He’s going to stay with us until he leaves.
Ivan (Indifferent as before)
Ah, so? That’s good . . . Oksana, just see here,
The food’s already cold. Go, get me some
That’s hot.
Oksana (Offended by his offhand manner)
The maid will soon be in;
Tell her yourself.
Ivan
Indeed! You’re getting proud.
(To Stepan)
In Moscow, I suppose, you find the girls
Are not so pert?
Stepan
I’m not acquainted there
With any girls.
Ivan
How’s that?
Stepan
I’ve only been
A short time there, for while my father was
Alive, he sent me to a school in Kyiv,
Most of the time to the Academy,¹
My father dying, I to Moscow went
To help my mother there.
Perebyny
Why did you not
The rather bring your mother here?
Stepan
’Twas hard.
We had naught left to live on in Ukraine.
You know it well yourselves — our whole estate
Was ravaged, plundered to the very bricks
Before the last revolt. We never were
Among the wealthy ones and then we lost
That little wealth that we had once possessed.
Before in Moscow to obtain a place,
My father had to suffer poverty;
At Pereyaslav² he had sworn an oath
To Moscow and most loyally he kept
His given word.
Ivan
Why should that oath be kept?
It was the Devil tempted them to swear.
Perebyny
But then, my son, there were two schools of thought
And no one knew just how things might turn out.
And after . . . one cannot betray an oath
Ivan (Ironically)
Of course! It’s better to betray Ukraine.
Stepan (Flares up but restrains himself)
My father was no traitor to Ukraine.
He served her ‘neath the Tsar’s hard hand no worse
Than did his enemies serve her beneath
The Polish ruthless crown.
Ivan
Of course, of course!
It makes no difference whose the boots we lick,
The Pole’s or Muscovite’s.
Stepan
How many were
There then who stood up independently?
Perebyny (To Ivan)
My son, Ukraine’s affairs are difficult . . .
Old Bohdan was no greater fool than I
Or even you, but yet he found that he
Could not maintain himself by his own strength.
Perebyny leans over towards his son and whispers in his ear but Ivan impatiently shakes his head.
Ivan
What beith about the bush? Let’s speak the truth!
This is not private, it’s a public sore.
If there were fewer in our midst of those
Who made themselves a goodly stake and fate,
Still long to kneel on Moscow’s furs and stretch
Their hands out to the “treasury’s money bags,”
As Muscovites are wont to say. . . .
Perebyny
Ivan!
Plucking at his sleeve.
Stepan
’Twas not for “furs” nor yet for “money bags”
That my late father went to Muscovy!
Obey the alien lords in his own land
He would not; rather at the alien court
Preferred to serve his native faith, to aid,
E’en from afar, his brethren ‘neath the yoke
By gaining favor for them with the Tsar.
He was too old to take up arms to fight
For Ukraine’s fame and honor . . .
Ivan
You are young —
Why did you not then take the weapon up
That fell from out your father’s age-worn hand?
Stepan
How can I make it clear to you? As child
My father taught me out of Holy Writ
And ordered me to learn by heart the place
Therefrom which tells of Cain and Abel: “Son,”
He used to say “Take heed with an eye
Unclouded, you, not trembling as did Cain,
Can give the Heavenly Father clear reply,
When He shall ask ‘Where is thy brother now?’”
With that behest, how could I in Ukraine
Lift up a weapon with the wish to strike
With it my brother-man? Can it be true
That sword and musket have a greater power
And honor than the pen and sincere words?
At least my father taught that truth to me.
Perebyny
We are not used to hearing things like that . . .
However . . . maybe in the world there would
Be less of sin and woe, if every one
Were of your mind. . . .
Ivan
It is those monks in Kyiv
Who teach such stuff as that!
Oksana
But you, Ivan,
Ne’er went to school in Kyiv. How can you trust
Know anything of what they teach?
Ivan (Sarcastically)
Ha, ha!
Here all at once appears an advocate
For you, dear sir.
Oksana
I simply tell the truth. . . .
Abashed, she goes out of the porch into the garden. An orderly comes out from the house to the porch.
Orderly
My lord, I’ve brought the baggage of your guest.
Perebyny
Come then, Stepan, I’ll show you where you are
To stay with us while here.
Stepan (To Perebynykha)
Madame, my thanks,
For bread and salt.
Perebynykha (Glancing sideways at her son)
Forgive us, if perhaps
At first your welcome lacked in heartiness.
Stepan and Perebyny with the Orderly go into the house.
Perebynykha (Quickly, to Ivan)
You lout! Is that the way to treat a guest?
Ivan
Who cares? Let him at least once hear the truth.
Perebynykha
But you, indeed, heard what he said?
Ivan
What then?
A monkish student knows how to deceive.
Perebynykha
I like his looks. . . . A well-trained courteous youth
He seems to be. . . .
Ivan
Of course, it is not hard
To please some people with a well-oiled tongue.
Perebynykha
At any rate, another time don’t dare
To treat a guest so harshly. It would seem
As though he’d been invited here for you
To pick a quarrel with. Unmannerly!
Ivan
All right! I will not pick on him again.
He goes off the porch.
Perebynykha
Where are you off to now?
Ivan
To join my friends.
He goes through the garden, jumps over the fence and disappears. The serving maid enters to clear off the table.
Perebynykha
Oksana! Where are you?
Oksana (Appears with a watering can in her hand)
Here, mother, here.
I’m watering the flowerbeds.
Perebynykha
In truth,
They need it too; they’re dried up by the sun,
And water those transplanted ones as well.
Perebynykha and the maid finish clearing the table and go into the house. Oksana sings while watering the flowers. The dusk thickens in the garden. Stepan quietly climbs out of his window over the porch, drops upon it and then swiftly and gaily lowers himself to the ground and approaches Oksana.
Oksana
(Breaks off her song in fright and drops her watering can)
Oh, woe! Who’s there?
Stepan
My lady, it is I.
Forgive me. Bear me no ill will for this,
For you have cast a spell o’er me and drawn
Me hither like a nightingale with song.
A greater power than mine compelled me has . . .
Oksana (Bashfully but proudly)
Why say such things to me, O noble sir?
To listen to them doth not me beseem. (Starts to go)
Stepan (Takes her hand to detain her)
No, no, you must not go . . .
Oksana (Offended, snatches her hand away)
What manners these?
I am no peasant from your fatherland.
Stepan (Devastated)
I had no thought of giving you offence,
For truly you are free. Is it no grief
To you that I with broken heart depart
For foreign parts, that one sweet memory
Of meeting you should leave a bitter taste?
I’m naught to you, O maiden proud and fair . . .
Yes, what am I? . . . A sort of vagabond . . .
At least that’s what they call me everywhere . . .
Tomorrow you’ll not give a thought to me . . .
Oksana (Dropping her eyes)
You leave tomorrow then?
Stepan
Why should I stay
And be a cause of friction here to all?
Oksana
’Twould seem as though ’twas I drive you away . . .
But yet I have not said a word to you. . . .
Stepan
Maybe I still have that word to expect,
To hear you say: “Be on your way! Depart!”
Oksana
(Dismayed, plucks a leaf from a cherry tree, looks at it, and rolls it in her hand)
How queer and strange you are! Well, what ought I
To say to you? . . . I am not used to this . . .
There are some youths whom I have known for years
And yet I’ve never heard from them the like . . .
While you . . . you have but just arrived. . . .
Stepan
Lady!
Those gentlemen without a care can roam
Around this garden in full liberty
And for their delectation choose a flower
And wait until it comes to fullest bloom.
But I am like a captive who escapes
From prison for a time and shortly must
Farewell say to this happy world, and so
He cannot wait until the blossom bloom.
The flower for me would not be mere delight.
I see in it the image of free life,
The beauty of my native land. For me
The corner whence I fain the flower would pluck
Would seem the world entire. True, I forgot
That you in freedom live, and that for you
There is no charm, nor can there ever be
In that place yonder, where I go to dwell.
Oksana (With her head bowed and almost whispering)
Why are you in advance so sure of it?
You seem to think that I am naught else but
A flowering plant, that in me dwells no soul,
No beating heart. . . .
Her voice becomes slightly tearful. She breaks off.
Stepan (Again takes her hand, and this time she does not resist)
Oksana, my bright star!
Forgive . . . I did not know . . . I hardly dare . . .
(With a sudden impulse)
Nay, nay! I cannot, I have not the strength
To give you up!
(He embraces Oksana.)
O, my dear heart, tell me:
Do you love me? O, speak the blessed word!
Oksana
Should I be otherwise now standing here?
She buries her face in his breast — silent action
Stepan
Tomorrow I shall suitors send for you;
Your father will receive them?
Oksana
Father likes
You very much and mother does as well.
Stepan
What can I give you in an alien land
To make up for the loss of your own home?
My faithful love and nothing else besides . . .
Oksana
Oh, do not think that I’m a frivolous girl
With nothing in her head but gaiety
And social forms. These times in which we live
Have taught e’en maids to think on serious things.
If you knew how the bloodshed weighs me down!
Stepan
The bloodshed?
Oksana
Yes, returning from campaigns,
Our knights amuse themselves with us in dance.
The soldier puts his hand out to embrace
Me in the dance, and then to me it seems
As though that hand was covered red with blood,
With brother’s blood . . . Diversions such as those
Do not rejoice my heart . . . Never, perhaps,
Would I accept a ring from any knight
With hands like that . . . (She looks at his hand.)
That hand of yours, I see,
Is free from blood.
Stepan
And yet not all esteem
It is an honor.
Oksana
I at once felt drawn
To you because of your humanity.
Tell me, is all your family like you?
Stepan
Our family’s small; my mother and my sister,
And a young brother. Yes, all those I have
Are kind and mild.
Oksana
Mayhap your mother will
Not love a bride who comes to her unknown?
What could I then do in an alien land,
So far from all my own?
Stepan
Oksana mine,
Be not afraid. My mother will rejoice
That I bring back a wife from dear Ukraine, —
My father, on his deathbed, wished that I
Somewhere in my own native land might wed.
My mother will recall you as a child.
(He embraces her again.)
And who is there who would not love my bride,
My dearest, sweet Oksana, my beloved?
’Tis but in songs that mothers-in-law are bad,
And you’ll see how my mother will treat you
As though you were her own.
Oksana
So may God grant!
Stepan
To me it seems that nowhere now is there
In all the wide, wide world, an alien land,
As long as we two are together. So
You’ll see how we will weave a little nest,
E’en though in Muscovy. There’ll nothing be
Of foreign taste in our small dwelling, eh?
Oksana
Of course there won’t. But yet I am afraid
Of living in that foreign land.
Stepan
With me?
Oksana (Smiling)
For sure, I’ll be with you. However, still
It’s not so much a foreign land, is it?
Religious rites are there the same, and I
Already understand somewhat their speech.
Stepan
It won’t take long to learn the language there . . .
It’s just a little difficult. But you,
Oksana dear, have such a fine, wise head,
You can learn anything.
Oksana
Don’t boast too much,
Or you may rue it soon!
(Somewhat gloomily)
Yet still I fear . . .
Stepan
What, my beloved?
Oksana
Somehow our happiness
Has come so suddenly . . . I never knew
The like before . . . All those among my friends
Who were betrothed, experienced a lot
Of griefs and troubles ere the wedding came,
While I . . .
Stepan
Now wait a bit; tomorrow, it
May be, your father will show me the door.
Oksana
No, no, he’ll not do that, I know full well.
Stepan (Jokingly)
‘Twould seem my lady is not pleased with this?
Suppose she turned me down, at least, just once?
Oksana
Enough of this! How can you jest?
Stepan
So then,
I cannot please you with my words. All right,
I will not speak at all, if that’s the case!
Without speaking, he embraces and fondles her. She resists at first and then submits to his caresses.
Perebynykha (From the house)
Oksana! That’s enough of watering!
It’s late!
Oksana (Breaking away)
My mother calls!
She starts to run away.
Stepan (Restrains her passionately)
A moment, stay!
A little moment, stay! . . .
Oksana
I’ll come to you
As soon as mother goes to bed.
Stepan
Come, come,
My love again! ’Til wait for you till dawn!
Perebynykha
Oksana, where are you?
Oksana
I’m coming, mother.
Once more she gives Stepan a parting embrace and runs into the house.
ACT II
IN MOSCOW
A parlor in Stepan’s house, adorned for a holy day. Outside can be heard the sound of bells. Stepan’s mother and Oksana enter, dressed in Ukrainian costumes; the mother wearing a headdress and a dark dress with a broad, falling collar; Oksana in a Ukrainian headdress with a bodice and tunic.
Mother (Sits down on the divan, breathing heavily)
I’ll rest a little, till I can mount the stairs . . .
I’m old . . . my legs won’t stand it . . .
Oksana (Sits down beside her)
Mother, why
Do you not have them bring your bed down here?
It’s much too hard for you to climb the stairs.
Mother
Oh, no, my dear, let it stay where it is
Upstairs. . . . ’Tis not the custom in Moscow
That women dwell upon the lower floor.
They’ll say: she’s old, she doesn’t know what’s right.
Oksana
But you were not born to their customs here.
Mother
Ah, dear Oksana, people here don’t ask
Where you grew up . . . We are outsiders here.
You live with wolves — like wolves you learn to howl.
Oksana (Laughingly)
And does that mean that I must learn to howl?
Mother
Well, what do you think, pray? . . . Today in church
You heard the whisperings all around us there:
‘Circassians, eh? . . . ‘No, Khokhols’ . . . ³
Oksana (Somewhat saddened)
Yes, I heard . . .
They have no reverence. . . . In God’s own church,
Instead of praying, they all buzz and talk,
Yet boast themselves of being Orthodox
Much more than we. . . .
Mother
So goes it in the world:
Each land, its customs; every town, its ways.
That’s what the people say. To them our dress
Seems very strange. Here all the women wear
A veil while we go with our faces bare.
Oksana
We are no Turks, are we?
Mother
May God forbid!
And neither are the Moscow women Turks,
But yet somehow they’ve introduced the style.
But as a noble dame of Muscovy
You ought to dress like them, they think.
Oksana
But you?
You are the mother of a nobleman.
Mother
A mother’s not a wife. The people see
That I’m already on my way to God.
So why should I change my ancestral garb?
(With a mild but melancholy smile)
It’s not worth while for me to buy new things.
Indeed, my husband — may he rest in peace!
Wore to the end his favorite Cossack blouse
And when we laid him out, he had it on
With his embroidered shirt.
She wipes a tear from her eye. Oksana, greatly moved, gazes at her . . . A brief silence.
Oksana
But why then, now,
Does Stepan wear that nobleman’s costume?
Oh, when he stood with me beneath the crown,
Dressed in a crimson Cossack vest, ah me!
That was . . . (Blushing furiously, she stops)
Mother
Maybe he put it on to please
Some one (Wags her head goodnaturedly)
(More severely) However, daughter, he
Dare not the Tsar’s prescribed costume neglect.
Oksana
His father, though . . .
Mother
My husband, daughter, was
Quite old and feeble, when the Tsar made him
A noble. After that, he was too ill
To leave the house and go in company.
But Stepan goes to all the Tsar’s levees,
Because he must.
Oksana
And would it be a shame
For him, if he went dressed in Cossack style?
Mother
Not shame alone . . . My daughter, you are strange —
Your husband is a Tsarist nobleman
And not a Cossack! Don’t you comprehend?
Oksana (Sadly)
Why should I not?
Mother
My dear, and so you see
Why I dress Hanna in the Moscow style,
For she’s betrothed unto a native here,
And nevermore to Ukraine will return.
Oksana
Why did not Stepan bring her with him, when
He was with us?
Mother
For maids to travel thus
Would seem a monstrous thing. The folk would say:
“She’s gone off on a trip to catch a groom.”
Let her stay here and wear the pantaloons,
Since she will marry here.
Oksana
Those “pantaloons”
The girls must wear are bad enough but those
The women wear are worse, so bulging, full,
And so, so long, as long as priestly robes!
It makes me sad, when I must put them on,
And then the snood with hanging veil which goes
Upon the head! Why should one veil the face?
Mother
It must be done.
Oksana (After a moment, hesitantly)
Dear mother, I’m afraid . . .
Mother
What do you fear, my daughter? Tell me, what?
Oksana
It’s hard to say . . .
Mother
Come, don’t be timid, child.
I take the place of your own mother here.
Oksana (Kisses the mother’s hand)
Yes, mother dear . . . Oh, well . . . I sometimes think
Maybe, sometimes, I might repulse
To Stepan in such clothes. . . .
Mother (Laughing)
What an idea!
I ask you whether Stepan ever you
Repelled, when he was not in Cossack dress?
Oksana
But I . . .
Mother
Do not imagine things, my dear.
Is Stepan such a child, so that he would
Not know you well, no matter what you wore?
Oksana
There’s knowing and . . .
Mother (Looking out of the window)
Look out the window, child,
Your eyes are younger; see who’s coming here!
Oksana
Maybe it’s Stepan?
Mother
Yes, indeed, ’tis he.
And with him are two men.
Mother
Let’s run, my child.
She rises and starts for the door.
Oksana
What’s this? For heaven’s sakes, we have to flee
As if from Tartars?
Mother
This is no time to laugh!
’Tis not the custom here for womenfolk
To stay around when gentlemen converse.
She opens the door and hastens up the stairs to the women’s quarters.
Oksana (Following her)
O Lord, what customs, customs have they here!
And now this one!
The scene swiftly changes. The top floor, where the women’s quarters are in the homes of the Muscovite nobility. Beside the mother and Oksana, there is present also Hanna, Stepan’s sister, a young girl. Hanna is dressed as a Muscovite noblewoman.
Mother (Goes to a large wardrobe)
Now here, my daughter, is
Your noblewoman’s dress. I had it made.
Oksana (Politely, but without any pleasure)
I thank you, mother.
Mother
Would you like to try
It on at once?
Oksana
A little later, please.
I’m somewhat tired now. Besides, today,
I’m going nowhere, so I’ll still have time
To change into it later.
Mother
As you will.
Go, rest a while. And I will do the same.
It’s fitting on a holy day. (She goes into an adjoining room.)
Hanna
(Who up till now has been sitting quietly, cracking and eating pumpkin seeds)
What earthly use are all these holy days?
Oksana
Why, what a question! Your God gave them to us.
Hanna
Well, what a bore they are!
Oksana
Why sit up here?
Alone? Go out, enjoy some company!
Hanna
Where should I go? And where find company?
Oksana
But have you no companions of your age?
Hanna
Companions? . . . Well, I know a few among
The noble girls. But how to visit them?
Our mother is not strong, she does not care
To go with me . . . And you as yet have not
Become acquainted here. With Mama it’s
A . . . Well, she’s such . . .
Oksana
Why can’t you go alone?
You are no more a child. Go by yourself.
You’ll surely be more cheerful with young folks.
Hanna
In Moscow, one does not go out alone.
Oksana
It’s dangerous?
Hanna
It’s not the custom here.
Oksana
Well, they are all strange customs that you have!
Hanna
And then, what could those nobles’ daughters say?
They all sit in their gardens just as I,
And never see the world. What pleasure there?
Oksana
Why should you sit here bored? Go in a group
Somewhere out in the fields, walk in the woods,
Besides a stream and sing. At home I did
Not sit indoors to spend a holy day.
Hanna
At home, maybe! But here in Muscovy,
They never heard of anything like that —
Go singing in the woods!
Oksana
So you don’t know
How in Ukraine companions sport and play?
Hanna
I can recall but little of Ukraine,
And Vanya was born here in Muscovy.
Oksana
Why Vanya, not Ivas?
Hanna
He’s called that here,
So we use it as well. He likes it too.
There’s only mother and Stepan who still
Call me Hannusya.
Oksana
What is the name
The others call you?
Hanna
Annushka.
Oksana
Indeed!
(Laughingly tries it)
It’s Hannushka.
Hanna (Correcting her)
Oksana, no. Annushka.
Oksana
I can’t pronounce it right but yet it’s naught
To one who speaks the Moscow language well.
How does my name, Oksana, go with them?
Hanna
Aksinya, or Aksyusha.
Oksana
Ugly sound.
I like Oksana better. Hannusya,
You must call me Oksana all the time.
Hanna (Nestles close to Oksana)
I’ll call you what you wish. O sister, dear,
I love you, Oh so much. How glad I was,
When brother brought you hither from Ukraine!
Oksana
You don’t know me as yet, Hannusya dear.
Perhaps I’ll turn out bad . . .
Hanna
No, no, you’re kind!
You always say to me, “Enjoy yourself,
Come, have some fun, don’t sit!” You ought to hear
How all the other noble dames keep down
Their daughters and young sisters. O good Lord!
They never let them poke their noses out.
(She nestles closer to Oksana.)
Oksana . . . dearest one . . . There’s something I
Should like to ask of you.
Oksana
What is it, dear?
(Hanna is afraid to speak.)
Is there a dress of mine you’d like to have?
Choose what you like the best. A necklace too
I’ll give you and I’ll plait your hair in tails
And make you look just like a Hetman’s bride.
Hanna (Gloomily)
No, mother would be sure to make a fuss.
It is not clothes . . . I wanted just to ask
If you . . . go to the garden, to call me.
Oksana
Is that all? Why, that’s nothing much to ask!
Come on, we’ll go!
Hanna
No, not just now; let’s wait.
Oksana
When’er you like. What’s in the garden, then?
Hanna
You see . . . I cannot in the garden sit
All by myself . . .
Oksana
And what’s to hinder you?
Hanna
If I with mother go — she’ll talk and talk
To every one why I go there to sit.
Oksana (Laughing)
You go there to divine, you crafty girl!
Hanna
No, I do not. . . . I simply go to wait
And see if maybe down the street will come
The royal guards. Towards evening they parade.
Oksana
Perhaps one of the guards has shot a shaft
And struck your maiden heart?
Hanna
Oksana, I
Already am betrothed.
Oksana
A royal guard?
Hanna
Why, yes.
Oksana
Then why does he not visit us?
Hanna
E’en if he came, you think that I could see him?
I’d be upstairs, while he was down below.
Oksana
And you don’t see each other?
Hanna
How can we?
Oksana
In public company? By stealth, perhaps?
Hanna
What do you mean by stealth?
Oksana
You go to meet him in the garden?
Hanna
What!
No, no, I’m not already lost to shame!
How could you ever for a moment think
That I would ask you to accompany
Me to a secret tryst? Oksana, nay,
You do not think that I could be so vile?
Oksana
God bless us all! What is there vile about
A maiden who in conversation stands
A while with her betrothed? Where is the shame?
Hanna
It is so here.
Oksana
Why then will you go out
Into the garden?
Hanna
So that I can see
Him from afar, as he rides down the street,
For otherwise I should not see him till
We meet in church.
Oksana
Where did you talk with him?
Hanna
I never have.
Oksana
Then how did he woo you?
Hanna
Through the matchmakers, just as all the rest.
Oksana
I do not comprehend.
Hanna
You do not know
The customs here. Ask mother, she can tell
You all about them. I don’t know the mass
Of all these fine details.
Oksana
So it would seem
That you, without a single word exchanged,
Will marry him?
Hanna
With utmost dignity.
Oksana
What strange young folk! (She smiles at an unspoken thought;
a moment’s silence, and then in a dreamy tone)
At home, I used to go
And meet with Stepan every eve at dusk.
Hanna
When you had been betrothed?
Oksana
Betrothed, of course . . .
But oft I talked with him, still unbetrothed,
For else, how could a maid be wooed?
Hanna (Covering her face in horror)
Oh, dreadful! Shame! (Oksana slumps her shoulders in silence.)
Your mother did not know,
Still does not know, about your secret trysts?
Oksana
Why should she know?
Hanna
So that she might forgive
And not curse you!
Oksana
Curse me for what, Hanna?
Both she and father were once young themselves;
They know what young love is.
Hanna
Oksana, Oh!
How can you say such things?
Oksana (Laughing)
You foolish dear!
Stepan (Entering hastily)
Oksana dear, go change your dress at once
For Muscovite costume. A noble’s come.
Oksana
But mother said that women must not stay
Around, when men are here.
Stepan
See here, my love,
You merely have to do the honors now
And then return to your own room.
Oksana
Ah, so!
Then how shall I the honors pay, Stepan,
In our own manner or some other way?
Stepan
You bring the cups of mead in on a tray —
Your mother will arrange the tray for you —
You bow, present, the nobleman will kiss
You on the lips . . .
Oksana
Stepan, what’s that you say?
The nobleman will kiss me on the lips!
Whoever dreamed the like?
Stepan
Now, now, dear heart,
It’s just a form with nothing evil meant —
A custom merely!
Oksana
One more custom harsh!
Well, let them keep their own! I will not come!
Stepan (Gloomily)
Just as you will, but you’ll destroy us all.
Oksana
You just imagine it!
Stepan
But you don’t know
How vengeful these folk are. This nobleman
Will be insulted, if you do not come,
And he’s the brooding sort, has influence, —
His son, though young, is privy counselor.
He’ll slander me before the Tsar himself
And then for us ’twould be “the word and deed”⁴
Oksana
You’re joking, are you not?
Stepan (Still more gloomily)
What do you think?
Oksana (Horrified)
Oh, Stepan, what’s this life we have to face?
It seems to me like pagan slavery!
Stepan
I never said that you’d find freedom here,
But if in Moscow we don’t crook our spine,
Then in Ukraine, maybe, the Moscow governor
Will loose a triple hell upon the backs
Of our whole family. You almost faint
With horror just because some aged fool
Is going to touch your lips, while I must stand
And let myself be called, “Stepan, good thrall!”
And kiss his hand as if I were a slave —
Is that mere nothing?
Oksana
Oh, my God, Stepan!
Who’d say that it’s “mere nothing?”
Stepan
So you see . . .
Why do I dally here? The aged fool
Awaits me there. Oksana, what say you?
You’ll come?
Oksana
I know not . . .
Mother (Coming out of her room)
Go, my darling, go.
My daughter, please! For my sake, I beseech you.
Don’t let me in my old age see the fate
That else will Stepan overwhelm!
Hanna
Sister,
If you but knew what a ferocious man
That noble is! I beg, beseech you, dear!
My sister, do not let us be destroyed!
Weeping, she rushes to Oksana.
Oksana (Coldly and with an extraordinary outer calm)
I’ll go. Give me that Muscovite costume.
(Hanna rushes to the wardrobe.)
And you, my mother, can prepare the mead.
Go, Stepan, down and entertain our guest.
Stepan with bowed head, goes out. Oksana, deathly pale, takes off her Ukrainian headdress.
ACT III
THE MESSENGER
A small out-of-the-way room on the top floor of Stepan’s home.
Stepan (Bringing in a Cossack visitor)
We’d best talk here in privacy, my friend.
Downstairs, you know . . . Well, here it’s much more safe.
(He looks up and down the passage outside, then closes and locks the door and shuts the window. Then he takes a seat away from the door. The conversation is carried on in low tones.)
They’re doing dreadful things down there, you say?
Cossack
Such acts of violence you never heard.
No leeway do these Muscovite fiends
Grant us at all. But all the time they poke
Us in the eye with that sworn oath . . .
Stepan
Indeed,
You know, an oath is such a weighty thing.
Cossack (In a louder tone)
Then why do they forget God’s judgment, too?
Stepan
Speak lower, friend; some one may overhear
Our words, if they’re too loud.
Cossack
True, I forgot.
(More softly) We do not want to break our plighted word,
But let the Tsar give us protection from
These vicious rooks.
Stepan
It is a difficult
Affair. He must have some one there to keep
A watch, yet all those governors of his
Are all alike; no one is good. Of course,
When they depart, men like them will be sent.
Cossack
The Tsar should send us some Ukrainian.
In Moscow there are men — why, even you —
Who for long years have served him loyally
And who our native customs would respect.
Stepan
That won’t be done.
Cossack
Why not?
Stepan
They don’t trust us.
Cossack
And yet you are in highest favor here.
Stepan
Apparently, but they will not for long
Let us get out of sight. They might send us
For a short time upon a special mission
With Muscovite escort, but not alone . . .
And as for naming one a governor,
That ne’er will come to pass.
Cossack
Then wonder not,
If we rebel and Doroshenko join!
Stepan makes a move to clap his hand over the speaker’s mouth.
Stepan
For God’s sake, brother, take heed what you say!
Cossack (Mastering his impulsiveness)
Sometimes a word escapes from smothered wrath.
The worst, my friend, that vexes me is that
They won’t believe our word. My relative,
Chornenko, you know him?
(Stepan nods his head) Was thrashed so hard
He barely got away from them alive!
Stepan
Chornenko? He, I think, was one who was
Most loyal to the Tsar.
Cossack
He was, indeed!
But some one basely slandered him before
The governor that he to Chyhyryn⁵
Had sent a letter. What a blast that was!
His wife in tears cast herself at the feet
Of the cruel governor. . . .
Stepan (With a bitter smile)
They say, my friend,
“Moscow believes no tears.”
Cossack
The solemn truth!
However, there were certain to give aid. . . .
Stepan
Who?
Cossack
Not “who,” but what: cold cash!
Stepan
Was that it?
Silence
Cossack
That’s what it was that strongly pulled the string
To favor us . . . However, there are those
Who show no fear; by desperation moved
They will rebel, for they will stand no more.
(Moving very close to ‘Stepan, he continues in a whisper,)
Our maidens — some of them were members of
The same sodality of which your wife
Was head — have sewn a standard which they sent
To Chyhyryn. . . . of course by secret ways . . .
Ivan, your brother-in-law, took it himself.
’Tis not known yet. But if they find it out,
I dread to think of what will happen there.
(He moves away and talks a little louder.)
So now you see, how daring our folk are. . . .
(Stepan, sunk in troubled meditation, twists his belt in silence. The Cossack rises.)
So then, good friend, you think there’s little hope
Of getting any mercy from the Tsar?
Stepan (Starting out of his revery, also rises.)
Oh, no, why not? I’ll try it. Later on
I’ll see the Tsar at his select soiree.
If he is in his cups, perhaps I may
Be able to amuse him, for he likes
To hear ‘Circassian’ songs and anecdotes,
All sorts of clownish chatter, and he may
Also command to have the Tropak⁶ danced.
Cossack
You have to play the court comedian?
Stepan
You know the old-time saying: “Needs must when
The devil drives.” . . . But I’m prepared, my friend,
To go so far as e’en to risk my head,
If that would anything obtain for you
And for Ukraine. So give me that request
Which you’ve drawn up to supplicate the Tsar —
If I can strike a timely chance, I’ll give
It into his own hands.
Cossack (Draws out of his bosom a document rolled in a cloth with seals upon it.)
Here, my true friend,
May God assist you! If this document
Has no effect, there will not fail to be
A shedding of your brothers’ blood.
Stepan
Good God!!
May heaven forfend!
Cossack
Farewell, I’m going now.
Stepan
May God protect you on your homeward way.
They salute each other and the Cossack goes out.
Oksana (Enters hastily with great steps from another door.)
Oh, Stepan, I have sought you everywhere!
Stepan
Why, what’s the matter?
Oksana
We’ve just got to talk.
Yaknenko brought a letter from a friend
In my sodality.
Stepan (Hurriedly)
Where is the letter?
Burn it at once!
Oksana
Why, why, for heaven’s sake?
Why burn it up at once? She’s begging me
To send her money, all that I can spare;
She has some urgent need that must be met.
Stepan
Don’t send it! God forbid! Don’t dream of it!
Oksana
But what is wrong with you? I never thought
You could be miserly. If that’s the case,
I’ll draw from my own dowry and send that.
Stepan
It’s not the money that I grudge, my dear.
Oksana
Then why not let me send it?
Stepan
Dangerous!
(He bends down close to her and whispers,)
They want it now for help to Doroshenko.
Oksana (She is silent for a moment from astonishment and then smiles mysteriously.)
Well then, there’s greater need.
Stepan
Bethink yourself!
You’ve always been afraid of shedding blood,
But this will mean a fratricidal war
That Doroshenko’s brewing in Ukraine —
He’s even won the Tartars to his aid
And pays them with the Christians they enslave.
Oksana (Sits down, shocked and unnerved, on the bench and leans against the table.)
Woe everywhere, no matter where one turns . . .
The Tartars there . . . and Tartars here . . .
Stepan
My dear,
What are you dreaming of? What Tartars here?
Oksana
Why not? Don’t I, like Tartar women, sit
Here in captivity? Don’t you, too, when
You grovel at the feet of your own lord
As if a Khan? The whips, the stakes are here . . .
They sell and purchase slaves. . . . They’re Tartars here!
Stepan
But here’s the Christian faith.
Oksana
And what a faith!
I go to church and . . . O forgive us, Lord!
But in their Mass what do I understand?
A gibberish of this and that . . . who knows?
Stepan
Oksana, this is sinful talk!
Oksana
My husband,
I’m sick to death of this drear Muscovy.
She lets her head fall on the table.
Stepan (Standing gloomily by her)
I knew it, wife . . . Did I not say to you
That I could give you nothing in a land
So alien from ours?
Oksana (Starts up and clasps him in her arms.)
O my beloved.
’Tis I who am unkind! As though I did
Not know that you, my love, are suffering
Far worse than all of us. We ought the more
To pity you! (She presses him to her bosom.)
My love, tell me, how much
More shall we have to suffer in this way?
Stepan (Sighing)
God only knows, dear heart.
Oksana
Then we are doomed
To perish in the bondage?
Stepan
Hope in God.
Perhaps, somehow, these bitter times will change.
If things should quiet down, the peace be less
Disturbed in Ukraine, I might ask the Tsar
To give me leave to make a visit there.
Oksana
’Tis now impossible?
Stepan
It is, my dear.
I can’t e’en dream of it. You see, just now
I have a supplication to present
Unto the Tsar from persons in Ukraine —
They make complaints of arbitrary acts . . .
I must support their suit; and so for me
It’s not the time to beg to leave Moscow.
They’d say: “He sings a pretty song, so he
Can fly out of the cage.” Oksana, we
Have got to be most circumspect just now.
“Don’t sneeze, while sifting flour,” says the proverb.
If we should fail in this — which God forbid! —
We’re lost, ourselves, our country’s cause as well.
Oksana
How can we be more circumspect than now?
We live as though we’re treading on hot bricks!
Stepan
Well, for example; there’s that money for
Your friend at home . . .
Oksana (Dropping her eyes)
I will not send it now.
She must excuse me, if it can’t be done . . .
I’ll write and tell her . . .
Stepan
Better still, don’t write
At all, dear heart.
Oksana
Not write to her at all?
Why, it’s but common courtesy!
Stepan
If they
Should seize the letter — it occurs sometimes —
They would not hesitate to torture you,
When they discover Doroshenko’s plot,
And you’d confess that you contributed
To your sodality. . . .
Oksana
I’ll send her word
By Yaknenko.
Stepan
My dear, I beg of you
Not to receive him in our house at all.
Oksana
But I’ve invited him to call on me!
I can’t drive him away!
Stepan
Then send a maid
To tell him you’re unwell.
Oksana
’Twould be a lie!
Stepan
All right. But when they put you on the rack,
Do not complain.
Oksana
What mean you: “on the rack”?
Stepan
What do you think? To watch Yaknenko’s moves,
There’ll be a swarm of Muscovitish spies.
I know them well.
Oksana (Sorely troubled)
So then I may not send
No letters and no gifts to friends at home?
Stepan
You see, my love, that meanwhile it is best
Not to reply; and most, not to Ivan,
For he’s involved in perilous affairs . . .
Oksana
Not even to my brother send a line?
Her eyes fill with tears.
Stepan
’Tis not forever, sweetheart, but until
Conditions there improve. . . . (He embraces her again.)
Oksana (Without responding to his caresses, dully)
Oh, very well,
Then I won’t write to any one.
Stepan
Dear heart,
You’re angry with me!
Oksana (In the same tone as before)
No, why should I be?
You’re right, of course. What use is there to write?
Stepan drops her hands. Oksana walks slowly out of the room.
ACT IV
IN THE WOMEN’S QUARTERS
Oksana is embroidering on a frame; her hands are sluggish and languid.
Stepan (Enters and sits down on a stool beside Oksana.)
O Lord, how my head aches! . . .
Oksana (Without raising her eyes from her work)
You got up late.
Stepan
’Twas dawn, before the Tsar’s soiree broke up.
Oksana
Was it enjoyable?
Stepan
The devil, no!
They’re all afraid to speak an honest word. . . .
They drink and drink, until they’re drunk, that’s all. . . .
Oksana
Did you succeed with that request, Stepan?
Stepan
Not much, I fear . . . The Tsar said, “We will read
And ponder this” . . . We’ve heard that oft before.
Oksana
What now will happen?
Stepan (Irritably)
I don’t know! Don’t ask!
Silence. Oksana embroiders a few more stitches. Then she lets the needle fall from her band.
Stepan
Oksana, couldn’t you just talk a bit?
I feel so gloomy, and my head’s stuffed full
Of misery.
Oksana (Languidly)
What can I talk about?
I neither see nor hear of things outside . . .
I just sit here. . . .
Stepan (A little more irritated)
Don’t you make anything?
Oksana
Oh, yesterday, I stitched a crimson flower;
Today a blue one . . . Does that interest you?
Stepan
’Twould seem as though you’re greatly vexed with me?
Oksana (Through her tears)
No, no, Stepan, far from it! I’m not vexed. . . .
Stepan (Examines the embroidery, then gently)
And what’s the pattern going to be, dear?
Oksana (Dully)
I do not know. Something Hanna began.
Stepan
Perhaps it’s for her trousseau. ‘Twill be soon
Her wedding day.
Oksana
A month away, I think.
Stepan
Well, at her wedding you must sing and dance,
Divert yourself.
Oksana
Diversions such as these!
You bow and pay the honors, while behind
Your back the guests in whispers criticize:
“Circassian, eh?” “How queer she is!”
Stepan
You pay
Too much regard to them.
Oksana (Indifferently)
No, I don’t care!
Stepan
You seem to be fatigued and overwrought
Today. You do too much about the house?
Oksana
No, not a bit, — for mother sees to all.
Hanna and I, we simply sew.
Stepan
Maybe,
You shouldn’t sew so much?
Oksana
What else to do?
I don’t like sitting, nibbling pumpkin seeds,
As Hanna does. You need to occupy
Your hands and eyes somehow. . . .
Stepan
My poor, dear wife!
(Oksana bursts into a flood of tears.)
Oksana, what’s the matter? Why these tears?
Has some one slighted you? My mother? Hanna?
Oksana (Controlling herself somewhat)
No, they are kind . . . I’ve no complaint of them. . . .
Stepan
Then what?
Oksana (Stops weeping for a moment, then despairingly)
O Stepan, Stepan, can’t you see?
I’m pining, grieving, I can’t live like this!
She sinks down helplessly over her embroidery frame.
Stepan
Too true, no flowers can in dungeons grow . . .
And I had thought . . . (He walks around the room, pondering gloomily and then stops in front of Oksana.)
Oksana, calm yourself.
Let’s talk the matter through.
Oksana
How so, Stepan?
Stepan
It seems quite clear I’m ruining your life.
Oksana
No, I . . .
Stepan
It makes no difference. I will
No more embitter this sad fate of yours.
How hard for me it may be, — I’m prepared
To let you go back to your father.
Oksana
How?
And what of you?
Oksana
I’ll stay on here. For me
There’s no returning — that you know.
Oksana (Passionately)
You mean that I should leave, abandon you?
Was it for that I stood beneath the crown
And gave my plighted word?
Stepan
Oksana, I’m
No Tartar Khan to keep a person chained
Down by an oath. You have your liberty.
I only am the slave.
Oksana (Shaking her head)
No, Stepan, no.
Stepan
Why not? I give you back your plighted word.
(His voice breaks with emotion.)
And I beseech you . . . will you not forgive
Me for persuading you to leave your home . . .
For bringing you . . .
Oksana (Embracing him)
Enough, don’t say such things!
Do you not know? Before you said a word
To me, a single word, down there at home,
I was already yours with all my soul.
Can you not see that now, if I depart,
Go hence from you, my soul would still remain
And grieve?
Stepan
But what else can be done, my love?
Oksana
Let’s flee, the two of us! My father can
Assist you, till you have the means to live.
What do we care for all that Moscow gives?
Let’s flee back to Ukraine!
Stepan
The Tsar’s long arm
Can reach his nobles all throughout Ukraine,
And vengeance wreak upon your family.
We’re safe nowhere . . . .
Oksana
Let’s flee to Poland, then,
Or to Wallachia!
Stepan
What do you mean?
Exchange one exile for a different one,
Like vagabonds move on from place to place
In foreign lands . . . ‘Twould be the same as here.
Oksana
There’d be more freedom there.
Stepan
I’d have to earn
Somehow the stranger’s grace to stay with them;
And that would mean: by treason to Moscow.
Oksana
You should do it!
Stepan
An oath, Oksana, is
A serious thing. The Tsar will not give back
The plighted word to me as I to you.
And I cannot return to him all that
Which I, for many years, have had from him.
Silence. The dusk gathers in the room. From somewhere comes the muffled sound of ringing bells.
Oksana
Stepan, let’s talk no more about such things.
No, ne’er again.
Stepan
No, we must not, my love.
(After a moment)
Why don’t you sew?
Oksana
It’s much too dark to sew.
Tomorrow there’ll be light.
Stepan
Sing to me, dear,
Some quiet song — that’s if you can.
Oksana
I’ll try.
(Sings in a quiet tone)
“How sweet and lovely ’tis, when friend meets with a friend
They drink a cup, two cups, and for a sister send:
‘O dearest, sweetest sister, ” (She breaks off.)
I cannot sing.
Perhaps I’ve got unused to singing songs.
I feel a soreness in my chest . . . (She coughs.)
Stepan (Alarmed)
My dear,
Do you feel ill?
Oksana
Oh, no! It’s just a cough!
Stepan’s mother and Hanna enter, followed by servants carrying packages. The servants put down the packages and leave.
Mother
Good evening, children! Ha, why do you sit
Here in the dark?
Stepan
Just talking, that is all.
Mother
Don’t try to tell me that, my dearest children.
May God to Hanna grant a married life
As nice as yours!
Hanna (Who meanwhile has lit the lamp and is now unwrapping the packages.)
Oksana, look at this!
See all we’ve bought. (Oksana approaches.)
This, for a winter cloak;
This, for a summer skirt; this, for the veil.
It’s lovely, isn’t it? We bought it all
Right in the foreigners’ bazaar.
Oksana (With animation)
How fine!
And what a charming, lovely bride you’ll make!
I’ll do some dancing at your wedding feast!
Who cares, though Moscow dames may think it strange?
Hanna
Oh, how I love you, when you are so gay,
Instead of sitting drooping, sunk in gloom.
Mother
Oh, certainly, why should you sit and grieve?
You both are young . . . and with a well-found home . . .
Oksana (Picking up the phrase)
“Within the home there’s wealth”
Hanna (Not noticing the irony)
If you had seen how many merchants there
Spread out their wares! And why did you not come
Along with us?
Oksana
I was embroidering.
Tomorrow I’ll go with you everywhere
And will buy up all Moscow has to sell.
I’ll get you a brocade fit for a queen.
Stepan, may I?
Stepan
Of course you may, why not?
Oksana (Claps her hands and sings,)
“O, may I such a long life find,
As I have such a husband kind!”
Mother (Smiling with pleasure)
Oh, what a witty wife you have, my son!
Hanna
And what a lovely bridal song she sang
For me. O sister, sing that song once more,
The one they sing, while dressing the bride’s hair.
Oksana
I can’t, it’s sad, you’d start to cry again.
I’ll play the one who makes the wedding cake
Or else the bride’s attendant — listen now:
(She sings very loudly, in peasant style.)
“Fear not, mother, do not fear,
Get your scarlet boots so dear,
Put them on and click your heels,
Till the pot no longer squeals!
Hop!
(With a whoop she leaps on the divan.)
That’s how the bride’s maids jump over the seats!
Stepan (Catches her and lifts her down from the divan.)
Now, now, Oksana, that’s too much for you.
Mother
I hope the servants will not hear the noise . . .
Oksana
Too bad! But noblewomen must have fun!
Come on, Hanna, let’s cut a reel and sing!
Hanna (Laughing)
I don’t know how.
Oksana
Come on, I’ll show you how!
(She swings Hanna around her, singing the while,)
“Sing and dance, O mistress mine,
Why in sorrow should you pine?
Whether cloud or whether shine,
Sing and dance, O mistress mine?”
Stepan, why don’t you join in? Come and sing!
Oksana’s laughter rings out louder and louder, until it ends in a fit of coughing. Stepan, alarmed, rushes to her.
ACT V
IN THE GARDEN
A garden in the rear of Stepan’s house. There are seen the grated windows and the door of the women’s apartments with steps leading to a gallery in front of them. At one side is an arbor covered with vines and flowers. In the arbor a large Turkish couch cushions has been placed. Stepan’s mother and Oksana slowly descend the steps from the women’s apartments. Oksana is supported by her servant-farm girls. Oksana is dressed in a plain, ample housedress; her head is wrapped around with a silk kerchief in Ukrainian fashion. She is very ill; her eyes are sunken but glitter very brightly, and her cheeks are flushed.
Mother
(Preceding the servants to the arbor, points out to them the couch.)
Now place her Excellency there and then
You can go back once more unto your work.
(The farm girls set Oksana down and go back into the women’s apartments.)
Now, daughter, here you’ll feel much more at ease.
You breathe more freely?
Oksana
Yes, indeed.
Mother
Lie down,
Lie down, my dove. You’d like to take a nap?
Oksana
I’d like to, mother . . . but I am afraid . . .
Mother
Of what are you afraid?
Oksana
There’s always such a dreadful nightmare comes.
Mother
Just pray to good Saint Joseph. He’s the one
To ward off evil dreams and make them good.
Oksana
Since I’ve been here, my dreams are not the same . . .
When I was home, I always used to dream
That I was flying . . . They were lovely dreams . . .
But here I’ve never had that dream.
Mother
See, love!
You only dream of flying, when you grow,
And that’s why, when you’re young, you dream such dreams,
But now your growing days are o’er. . . .
Oksana
Oh . . . yes . . .
Mother (Arranging cushions)
Lie comfortably now and take a nap.
(She sits down beside the bed near Oksana’s feet.)
And I’ll sit here a while and say a prayer
That God will send you health, while you’re asleep.
(She takes out a rosary with amber beads and tells them over, her lips moving quietly. Oksana falls asleep. Stepan enters from the lower floor. His mother shakes her head at him, warning him to step quietly and not to make a noise; then she gets up cautiously and goes to meet Stepan at the other end of the garden away from the arbor.)
Mother (In a whisper)
What does the German say? Does he give hope?
Stepan
He said: “With God all things are possible.”
Mother
Of course, but to make use of human means
Is not a sin.
Stepan
He will use all his skill.
He is a learned man of great renown . . .
But how about an illness so severe?
Mother
I wonder when it first took hold of her?
Perhaps some one at Hanna’s wedding put
A spell on her, for since then she’s been sick.
Stepan
It had begun, I think, much earlier . . .
Mother
You think so? No! She always was quite well.
’Twas something at the wedding . . . Well, what did
That German say? Whatever can it be?
Maybe the evil eye? Or fright perhaps?
Too bad, there are no peasant healers here,
As back at home — they’d heal her with a charm.
Stepan
No, mother, charms would be of no avail.
This is an illness.
Mother
What sort? What’s its name?
Stepan
He said: “Your lady’s ill, she’s pining for
Her native land, an illness that’s well known.”
And then he told me how it’s called in Greek.
Mother
It doesn’t matter what it’s called in Greek,
But how to cure it, that’s the thing.
Stepan
He said,
“If we could take her to Ukraine again,
She might get well.”
Mother
She might. My son, perhaps,
The German doctor speaks in this the truth.
The poor dear’s pined and longed so much for home.
Why not? She came here from so far away;
Not everyone can stand a foreign land;
Some can and others can’t, and if . . .
Stepan
O mother,
I’m going to ask the Tsar to give me leave
To go and see my father-in-law. Will he
Do so?
Mother
Perhaps he may. There’s no more war.
Stepan
I’ll say to him that I must take my wife
Who’s ill, and make a pilgrimage to Kyiv
To worship at the Lavra’s holy shrines
And pray for healing. Would he let us go?
Mother
He ought to let you go. It is a sin
To hinder folk from going on pilgrimage.
Yes, Stepan, that’s an excellent idea —
To go and pay a pious vow, I think,
Is better far than all your medicine.
(With a sigh, she looks up to the heavens.)
But see, the sun is sinking toward the West.
You ought to go and wake Oksana up.
Sick folk should never sleep at setting sun.
Meanwhile I’ll brew a healing drink from herbs,
So ’twill be ready for her, when ’tis night.
Stepan
I thank you, mother, for the pains you take.
Mother
Why not, my son? We brought her far from home,
We needs must do the best we can for her.
She goes into the women’s apartments. Stepan approaches Oksana and quietly kisses her. She wakes up.
Oksana
It’s you, Stepan? I just was dreaming then
About the moon which used to shine so bright
And clear above our place at home. . . .
Stepan (With pretended cheerfulness)
The moon?
That’s queer, for it’s the sun that’s shining now.
Oksana
Maybe the moon down there more brightly shines
Than here the sun. . . .
Stepan
Don’t grieve, Oksana dear!
We soon again may see how brightly shine
Both sun and moon in your beloved Ukraine.
Oksana
What? Am I going to die? Why then, for sure,
My soul will wither fly . . .
Stepan
God save you, love!
Would I ever suggest a thing like that?
I merely thought we both might journey there
And visit your old home.
Oksana (Ironically)
A marvelous thing
You’ve conjured up! The Tsar won’t change his mind.
Stepan
He’ll give me leave. Conditions in Ukraine
Have settled down in peace.
Oksana
What’s that you say?
“Have settled down in peace” — And freedom’s crushed.
Ukraine lies bleeding under Moscow’s boots.
Is that what you call “peace?” A ruined waste?
Just as I soon will settle down in peace
Within the tomb.
Stepan
In Ukraine you’ll recover.
There Moscow cannot blot out all the sun
And blight your native groves or dry up all
The many streams.
Oksana (Depressed and stubborn)
Enough, don’t think of it.
I nevermore will travel anywhere.
Stepan
Why not?
Oksana
I’ve no desire.
Stepan
Oksana, you
Seem strange to me. Why do you talk like that?
Oksana (Flaring up, half rising from her couch,)
It’s strange to me, how you with any face
Can dream of going back unto Ukraine!
You sat in safety here in Muscovy,
While blood flowed freely, while a struggle raged
For life and death down there in our Ukraine —
But now, when things have “settled down,” you wish
To bask in its bright sunshine, to enjoy
What brutal hands have left untouched, to walk
Rejoicing through the groves unscorched by fire.
You want to see where conflagrations raged,
And gaze on places where once rivers flowed
Brimful of blood and tears? . . .
Stepan
You’re mocking me.
Yet you yourself once told me you could not
Accept a suitor’s hand, unless that hand
Was free from blood?
Oksana
’Tis true, I did say so . . .
We’re on an equal footing there. We fared
So much the bloodshed, Tartars, and the rack,
The demon’s oaths, the Muscovitish spies,
And never gave a thought how it might be
When things had settled down . . . Stepan, give me
Your hand!
Stepan
What for, I ask?
Oksana
Why, don’t you wish it?
Stepan
All right.
Oksana (Looking at her own and Stepan’s hands,)
It seems as though these hands are clean,
Yet always in imagination they
Are covered not with blood . . . but with a rust,
Such as one sees on ancient swords, you know?
(She drops his hand and sinks back again. She speaks more slowly, languidly, with frequent breaks.)
At father’s there was such a sword as that . . .
It had been cast aside . . . we found it once . . .
Ivan and I . . . we wished to play at war . . .
We couldn’t pull it out . . . stuck to its sheath . . .
’Twas rusted so . . . just like the two of us . . .
We have grown up . . . as that sword in its sheath . . .
Both rusted . . .
Stepan
O Oksana, you know how
To wound with words, although you wield no sword.
Oksana
That’s all that I can do, and nothing more.
What else is there I ought to do instead?
(Silence)
When I am dead, don’t choose another wife
From our Ukraine, find one in Muscovy . . .
Stepan
Oksana!
Oksana
Yes, we all can wound with words
But here’s where women fail . . . they fear too much . . .
Stepan (In agony)
Have pity on yourself and me as well!
Oksana
I’ve pitied all too much . . . there lies the wrong . . .
Had I had strength to vanquish pity, then
I should have broken loose from out the yoke,
And you’d have freed yourself from deadly rust . . .
We’re clean, yes — but no use to any one . . .
Stepan
Oksana dear! Let’s go back to Ukraine!
See, I beseech you! With your parents there,
Your relatives, your friends, you will revive,
Divert yourself.
Oksana (Turning away)
I would not dare to look
Them in the face . . .
Stepan
Well, then, we’ll go to Kyiv,
There make our prayers, beseech God to forgive,
Restore you to your health again!
Oksana
What for?
What will it profit any one, if I
My health regain?
Stepan
’Twill profit me, my dear,
I love you so!
Oksana
You only think you do . . .
You pity me, but as for loving me,
You have no reason to . . . I have become
So bitter, so capricious, so unkind . . .
Stepan
No, no, my lovely wife!
Oksana
A lovely wife?
If I had ever any loveliness,
It’s long since faded from my countenance . . .
Stepan (Strokes her hand, bending down over her,)
You tear and rend yourself by speaking thus.
You should not talk so much.
Oksana
That’s true enough . . .
Stepan
And why should you reproach yourself, my love?
’Tis fate that’s dealt with us so bitterly,
That certainly God must forgive our sins.
Some wipe blood from their wounds, we from our hearts,
Some are exiled, and some in prisons pant,
But we wear chains that are invisible.
Some find a moment’s ecstasy in fight;
And we are cursed by dreadful lassitude
And have not been endowed with moral strength
To cast it off.
Oksana (Speaking more quietly and gently than before,)
Yes, what you say is true,
But none will ever understand it, while
We still live on. Therefore, it’s best to die.
You certainly will live a longer life than I —
So in your hands I leave my testament,
And you can hand it to my family
And friends, if any of them still survive.
Stepan (In bitter grief)
Alas, ’tis I should say such things to you.
Oksana (Sits up and draws him to her.)
No, my beloved, the world has need of you.
There’s still a useful work that you can do.
No warrior can you be, but when the fight
Is o’er, you can help the defeated as
You have done many times . . . Not all the dead
Lie on the field . . . there’s many wounded here . . .
Help them to stand again . . . and then, perhaps,
Some time . . . back in the ranks once more,
They may remember you with grateful hearts . . .
And if they don’t — regret not that you helped.
They sit for a little while in silence, still embracing each other.
Stepan (Rises and extends his hand to Oksana.)
Now come. I’ll lead you back into the house.
The sun is almost setting now.
Oksana
’Tis time.
(Leaning on Stepan’s arm, she goes towards the house, but before reaching the steps, she pauses and turns around to look at the setting sun, which is just sinking below the horizon.)
Dear sun, good night! Thou hastest towards the west . . .
Thou gazest on Ukraine — give her my love!
¹ The Academy of Peter Mohyla
² The treaty of Pereyaslav between the Hetman Khmelnytsky and the Muscovite Tsar Alexis
³ A Muscovite term of derogation for Ukrainians
⁴ The Muscovite formula for treason
⁵ The capital of the Cossacks under Doroshenko
⁶ A Ukrainian dance
from ”Spirit of Flame. A Collection of the Works of Lesya Ukrainka”, 1950. Translated by Percival Cundy.
